Ten Little Indians

[Cluedo]

Ah yes, the days when slapping a hysterical woman was considered acceptable practice.
And she'd thank you for it. :smt120

You're one of the fastest updaters I'm reading at the moment, well done! I haven't actually read the original story, are you doing your own narrative, taking it straight from the book, or somewhere in between?

I'm liking it, anyway, if I haven't made that clear. :happy8:

Yes actually, I am taking lines and such directly from the book, but like any adaptation of something, I'm throwing in some of my own movements and lines that were not in the book.

For example:

Dr. Armstrong slapping Vera was in the book.

General MacArthur did not play chess with himself in the book.

Some of the stuff I write is also inspired by a couple of the film adaptations as well.

Basically, the alterations I make are little creative touches that don't drastically change the story itself. All the character's names are from the book for example, and the conclusion I give at the end will also be from the book.

One other thing I do is take important lines and event(or even the not so important ones) and throw them in to occur earlier or somehow fit it in with something else so that I don't have to write so much.

[Cluedo]

It was time for breakfast. Once again, everybody was gathered in the Dining Room eating the first meal that hadn't been prepared by the servants. Although the meal itself was rather odd. Everybody was so polite.

"May I get you some coffee Miss Brent?"

"Miss Claythrone, another slice of bacon?"

"My, this meal is delicious!"

Six people, all self-possessed and normal.



And within? Thoughts ran around like squirrels in a cage.

"What next? What next?  Who? Which?"

"Would it work? I wonder if it's worth trying. If there is time. My God, if there is time..."

"Religious mania, that's the ticket! Just looking at her you can hardly believe it...Suppose I'm wrong though..."

"It's crazy..everything is crazy! I'm going crazy! Yarn disappearing...red towel going missing...It doesn't make sense! I can't get the hang of it..."

"Damned fool believed every word I said. It was easy.  I must be careful though...very careful..."

"Six. Only six of those statuettes on the mantle. I wonder how many there will be by tonight?"

"Who will have the last egg?"

"Marmalade?"

"Thanks. Can I give you some potatoes?"

Six people behaving normally at breakfast.."

[Astral Faery]

Great!  More, more!  I want to know what happens next.  Whoisit whoisit whoisit?  Don't really answer that, lol.  I guess I'll just have to wait for the next update like everyone else.  Nice job!

[Cluedo]

The meal was now over.

Judge Wargrave was the first to speak,

"I think it would be advisable if we all met in the parlor in..say half an hour or so."

Everybody sounded in their agreement.

"I'll clear away the plates," Said Blore.

He began to gather them,

"I'll help you clean up in the Kitchen," Offered Vera.

"Thanks."

Miss Brent began to get up.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and began to wobble.

"Is anything the matter?" Asked the concerned Judge.

"I'm sorry, I would like to assist Miss Claythorne and Mr. Blore," She apologized, "But I'm feeling rather...giddy."

"Giddy eh?" Wondered Dr. Armstrong, "Quite natural, could be delayed shock. I could give you a.."

"NO!" Suddenly burst Emily like an exploding shell.



Dr. Armstrong's face turned red.

"Just as you like, Miss Brent."

"No..I don't want to take anything. I will just wait for the giddiness to pass. Perhaps I ought to sit outside for some fresh air."

"Perhaps that could be arranged," Said the Judge.

They led Emily Brent outside where there was a bench for her to lie down on in the shade. It was close to the scene where Rogers was killed, but she didn't seem to care.


"You can rest here and wait for you giddiness to pass," Advised Judge Wargrave, "Don't forget to join us in the parlor in half an hour."

Emily Brent looked at her watch.



"Yes..yes...I understand," She replied.

"Are you sure you want to stay out here all by yourself?" Questioned Vera, "It's rather risky.."

"I have nothing to fear Miss Claythorne," Answered back Emily Brent coldly, "So long as I have God to protect me from the demons."


With that said, everybody else departed, leaving Emily all alone...

The giddiness was passing...now she was feeling drowsy...like she could use a long nap.

There was also a buzzing sound...or was it a real buzzing? Presently she saw a bee crawling along her lap. Vera Claythorne had talked about bees this morning, she recalled.

Bees and honey.

Oh she loved honey. Honey in the comb and you could drip it through a muslin bag....drip, drip, drip....

First she smelt it. A dank smell in the air. Then she felt it. A very sharp sting on the side of her neck....ohhh it went deep.

Oh God did it hurt! At first. The dripping wouldn't stop though. She felt the liquid dripping down the side of her neck. Somebody was next to her...all wet and cold...she smelt the dank smell of the drowned girl...BEATRICE TAYLOR!

Emily Brent jumped up. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't breath. Her face was puffing up all horrible and purple. She tried to run..but she couldn't feel her legs. She was falling.....all around her swarms and swarms of bees attacked in a horrible frenzy!




Then...everything went black.

[Cluedo]

Half an hour passed and everybody was in the parlor. All except for Miss Brent. Lombard was seated at the piano, and appeared to be trying to plunk out the melody to "Ten Little Indians", but of course, he was no pianist.

"Six....little...Indian boys...play..ing..with..a .....hive," He said slowly as he played, "A bumble...bee...stung one of ..."


Vera covered her ears.

"Oh please don't do that Philip!" She cried, "Such a horrible song!"



"Yeh, do you have to do that?" Asked Blore, annoyed.

"I've been studying Mr. Owen's little scheme," Said Lombard turning to Blore, "As we know, Mr. Owen is only going to kill us off as long as it fits the verse, as Vera mentioned before."

"Which means," Said Dr. Armstrong, "Rather than when we are in a group, he will knock us off when we are off guard and alone!"

"Miss Brent!" Vera cried suddenly, "I think I ought to go fetch her!"
 
"Stay where you are Miss Claythorne, Commanded Judge Wargrave, "I think we ought to give her a moment or two. She may be just recovering."

"Hang on, I have a thought Judge!" Exclaimed Blore suddenly, getting up, "I don't think we have to move an inch further to be able to see who the murderer is. Why I believe she is one sitting outside this instant. I swear my oath she is the one we are after!"

"And the motive, Mr. Blore?" Asked Wargrave raising an eyebrow.



"Religious mania!" Proposed Blore, "What do you say doctor?"

"It's quite possible," Admitted Dr. Armstrong, "Of course we have no proof."

Vera shuddered,
"She was quite odd in the Kitchen this morning. She helped out, then left in a hurry..."

"Oh come now!" Burst Lombard, "We can't judge her by that! We are all getting a bit off our heads now, don't you think?"

"Of course, none of know the story behind her crime," Reminded Wargrave.

"That's not exactly true," Admitted Vera, "She did tell me her story yesterday..."

Wargrave turned to her,
"What did she tell you?"

Vera repeated the story behind Emily Brent and her drowned servant, Beatrice Taylor.

"Hmmmm..:" Mumbled the Judge, thinking, "A perfectly straightforward story. I have no trouble accepting it. Tell me though, did she feel any remorse or guilt afterwards?"

"None what so ever," Said Vera, "She was completely unmoved."

"Heart of stone, I see." Chuckled Lombard.

"Crazy old religious maniac she is!" Insisted Blore.

"She's had more than enough time," Said Judge Wargrave, "I think it's about right that we all go and fetch her."

Everybody got up and moved towards the door...then suddenly something caught Vera's eye.



"Judge! Blore! Doctor! Philip!" She cried, "Look!"

Sure enough, another Indian statuette was missing...and then there were five.

[Cluedo]

The five remaining guests ran outside. Deep down, they knew what they were going to find wasn't going to be pretty...

"She isn't here anymore!" Exclaimed Lombard.

Presently the bench Emily Brent once occupied was empty.



It was Blore who found her this time. The body lay behind the bushes and blue firewood boxs. He waved to the others to come over...



"My God, she's dead!" Whispered Blore under his breath.

Everybody was visibly upset.

"How could have we let this happen again!?" Grumbled Dr. Armstrong, "We should never have left her alone!"

"And what the Hell is this!?" Growled Lombard, indicating a wooden box with the lid open..."



"It's one of those...those bee house things..." Quivered Vera, "Usually found in an apiary..."

"Bees! Of course!" Blurted Lombard slapping his forehead.

Dr. Armstrong bent down to examine, then recoiled. Three bees that were crawling along Miss Brent's purple, convulsed face flew away.

"Horrible! Just horrible!" Dr. Armstrong said aloud in a stiffened tone, "Those welts on her face...horrible way to die!"

"How...did she die like that Doctor?" Asked Lombard, "She was alright when we left her."

Dr. Armstrong bent down again. There was a bloody mark on her neck that was significantly larger than the rest of the bee stings.

"It wasn't the bees that killed her," Armstrong reported, "That's the mark of a hypodermic syringe!"

"What kind of poison was it?" Asked the Judge.

"One of the cyanides probably," Figured Armstrong, "Probably the same kind Anthony Marston choked on. She would have died from asphyxiation at any rate."

"But the bees!" Cried Vera, "It couldn't have been a coincidence!"

"Oh it's not a coincidence my dear," Lombard assured grimly, "It's the murderer's touch of local colour. Likes to stick to his damnable nursery jingle as close as possible."

"Here look! What's this!?" Exclaimed Blore, looking closely at an object on the ground, "I believe I've found your stinger doctor!"



"That's a syringe alright!" Said Dr. Armstrong, "Very similar....to the one I brought."

All eyes turned to him suspiciously.

"Purely within medical reason," Explained Armstrong trying to sound as professional as possible, "Most doctors bring them you know."

"In that case," Said Wargrave, " Could you tell us where it was?"

"It was in my suitcase," Recalled Dr. Armstrong, "But this one happens to be identical enough, and I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't there."

"It seems then, that the murderer must have known you brought it," Wargrave said gravely, "Also, I must regret that I have to something else to say."

"What's that?" Asked Lombard.

Judge Wargrave looked down at Emily Brent's gruesome corpse.

"This is one more acquitted....too late."  

[Astral Faery]

Ooo!  Ooo!  More!  More!  Things are moving pretty quickly, now - must know what happened, lol.  By the way, we really could use some spooky music about now.  Poor Miss Brent - she was a real snot - but those are the ones you tend to miss the most.

[Cluedo]

I could try and find some spooky music if you wanted!
______________________________________________



Only five remained since Emily Brent was murdered. Her body taken to her room and laid on the bed like the rest. The remaining five stood out in the hallway wondering what to say or do next.



It was Judge Wargrave who spoke first.

"There are five of us in this room; one of us is a murderer," He confirmed, "Everything must be done to safeguard the four of us who are innocent. Already, Dr. Armstrong claims that the syringe we found was stolen from his room. Now I must ask what other things do you have in possession Dr. Armstrong?"

Dr. Armstrong thought for a moment,
"Oh a couple of medical drugs of the sort," He answered, "Potent sleeping tablets, aspirin, medical supplies; the lot."

"I too have to confess that I do have a few sleeping tablets in my possession," Admitted the Judge, "I think it would be wise if we gathered up all potential weapons throughout the house and lock them in a safe spot. That would include firearms. Mr. Lombard, you have a revolver I hear?"

Lombard's eye narrowed.

"Who told you that?"

"Sorry," Shrugged Blore, turning a little red.

"I'll be damned if I give up my revolver!" Declared Lombard.

"Mr. Lombard, you are a strong man it appears, but hopefully there are enough of us here to enforce the issue if necessary," Threatened Wargrave.

"Oh very well, I'll fetch it.." Grudgingly replied Lombard.

"I think it would best if we came with you just in case," Said Blore.

"Suspicious devils, the lot of you are," Lombard snarled, throwing his head back.

They all strode off to Lombard's bedroom where he proceeded to open drawer where he kept the weapon...

 

Then he recoiled suddenly, cursing audibly.

"It's gone!"

"Where could it have gone?" Asked Vera.

"I'd think the owner would know the answer to that..." Sneered Blore, with suspicion.

Lombard swung around angrily.

"You damned pig-headed fool!" He growled, "It has been stolen from me!"



"When did you see it last?" Wargrave asked.

"It was in my drawer last night before I went to bed," Answered Lombard, "I checked to make sure!"

"It seems then that perhaps your revolver must have been stolen during the search for Rogers this morning, or even after we found his dead body," Theorized Wargrave, "Unless of course one of us has it right now....."


Vera stood out in the hallway as one by one each of the gentlemen striped to the skin and searched each other's clothing. No revolver was found.

[OwlM]

I have read story in class, I like it and thanks for brigning it alive in our favorite game. Check out my story about witches hope ya enjoy it.

[Astral Faery]

Hmmm...very mysterious.  Who will search Vera?  Or is she exempt because she's a woman?  The pace is starting to pick up, now, and the finger pointing is getting even more persistent.  Looking forward to more!

[Cluedo]

She does get searched eventually, but within reason.
_______________________________________________
It was now evening. Dinner...or as least what could be called dinner was being prepared by Vera in the Kitchen. Out of all things to be doing, Blore and Lombard were in the Parlor, having a game a chess. Before there was a commotion over the missing revolver, but it was yet another thing everyone was willing to forget. It was a curious sort of thing to be doing, but by now...everything was beyond curious.




"You know Lombard, come to thing of it, our whole situation is like a game of chess...," Commented Blore.

"What's that old man?" Perked up Lombard.

"Well the whole purpose of chess is almost like a game of survival," Explained Blore, "And well...I never have been good at it myself. In fact...I don't know why we are even playing."

"Have to pass the time somehow," Replied Lombard, "We can't sit frozen like frenzied vegetables waiting in bathed fear for the murderer to pick off another of us..."

"Do you think you can keep your wits long enough?" Blore asked as he leaned forward.

"I've been in tough spots before," Answered Lombard, "But I think....just think I will make it out of this one."

"Would you wager on that claim then?" Blore urged on.

"Perhaps I might," Lombard boasted, "Why, would you bet that you could outlive me?"

"Nobody is going to pull one on William Henry Blore, I'll see to that!" Growled Blore, obstinately, "How much would you bet on it?"

"Well if we bet on it..," Wondered Lombard with menace, "Who shall collect the winnings from the loser?"


Dr. Armstrong and Judge Wargrave were once again in the Games Room involved in a game of billiards. However, the tension had heightened significantly since the last round the day before...



"What's the matter doctor?" Asked Wargrave solemnly, "You don't look well and your playing has been..shall we say...not up to par."

"Surely you understand Judge," Armstrong answered back, "This whole situation is exceedingly stressful on my shot nerves..."

"I perfectly understand," Assured Wargrave, "Though I often find a stiff whiskey does the trick."

"Pity the drinks and spirits have been holding up in the larder..." Muttered Armstrong under his breath.

Suddenly the lights in the room flickered as Dr. Armstrong was about to take a shot....

For a split second, the room was thrown into darkness before coming back on, causing Armstrong to hit the ball right off the table.

"Blast! It's hopeless with these lights flickering!" Growled Armstrong, "Something is messing up the electricity!"


Blore and Lombard were noticing it too in the Parlor.

"Ruddy Hell!" Blurted Blore, "What's going on here?"

"The generator," Answered Lombard, slapping his forehead, "It hasn't been checked since Rogers was alive!"

"Not if I can do something about it!" Insisted Blore.

And like a flash he darted out of the room....no sooner when he left did the lights shut out completely. The house was thrown into darkness! Then came the sound of footsteps running...and into the Parlor came a shakened Vera.

"Oh Philip!" She cried, "I was in the Kitchen when suddenly we were in complete darkness! I couldn't see a thing!"

Lombard grabbed her and held her close to him,

"Just stay here with me," He told her, "We will stay here until the others come. Don't worry we will light some candles.....until the lights come back on."

Vera looked up.

"Do you think they will come back on?"



"Stay where you are!" Ordered Dr. Armstrong clutching his billiard cue close.

"I haven't moved an inch," Replied Wargrave calmly.

"Let's just wait...a second or two...until they come back on," Armstrong stuttered.

"They won't come back on," Bluntly replied Wargrave in a cold tone.

"And why shouldn't they?" Asked Armstrong in a high paranoid tone.

"Do you think this is an accident?" Wargrave inquired, "Clearly the murderer wants the house to be in darkness tonight....nows the time."

"You mean...?" Perked up Armstrong leaning closer.

"Yes," Answered Wargrave, "Let us go over the plan...."

[Astral Faery]

Ooh - should be interesting to see what happens next.

[Cluedo]

Hardly a word was said over dinner. It was cold tongue. They ate it in silence, casting suspicious glares at each other. All they could think about was "One of us...one of us....one of us...", After it was over, they all adjourned to the Parlor which was where they sat still in further silence. The rule was that only one person was allowed to leave. Nobody else could leave until the first person got back. It was if they were less like human beings and had transformed into beastly animals.

Judge Wargrave was a wary old tortoise who sat hunched with his eyes alert. Mr. Blore looked coarser and clumsier in build like a hulking bear. There was a look of ferocity and stupidity about him. Philip Lombard's senses were heightened like a wolf; reacting to even the slightest sound. Vera Claythorne sat huddled on the sofa looking dazed and confused as though she were a bird that had just smashed against the window pane. Dr. Armstrong was a bundle of nerves twitching nervously and suddenly like a terrified rabbit. Every now and then he would burst out in nervous speech...

"We shouldn't just sit here and do nothing!" He insisted nervously, "We ought to do something! We should lit a fire...yes a fire! Let's start with that!"

He did so, making the room warmer...



"Well who shall be first to speak?" Asked the Judge, all so suddenly.

All eyes turned on him.

"What the Devil do you mean?" Asked Lombard.

"I believe it is time we ought to confess our crimes," Replied Wargrave, "If we could sort out those who confess from the person who cannot explain, then it may be the key to save our lives. Anybody care to go first?"



Nobody responded.

"Very well, I shall begin," Said the Judge solemnly, "As you know, Mr. Owen held me responsible for the death of Edward Seton. It is perfectly true. He was an innocent young man accused of killing an old woman. I had nothing against him, I wanted to ruin the reputation of his defending counsel; who lost the case. While his client, lost his life."

There was still a silence. Then the Judge turned to Dr. Armstrong and nodded.

"Well...I rather not," He meekly replied.

"Tell us the truth Doctor," Urged on Wargrave, "Your fate depends on it..."

"The gramophone record....did not lie," Admitted Armstrong, wiping his forehead, "Elderly woman, poor dear. I operated on Mrs. Clees while under influence of a little pick me up or two to steady myself. It was an accident that could of happened to anyone....and I blundered it. Guilty I was, I suppose. But of drinking....not of killing."

Suddenly Blore spoke up,
"I don't see where this is getting us!"

"I think this is getting us to a very important conclusion Mr. Blore," Replied Wargrave, "If I were you, I would speak."

"I didn't kill anybody!" Protested Blore, "This Landor chap was innocent alright,   but I got mixed up with the Purcell gang that was out to get him. From my testimony he got sentenced for life. That's all."  

"Well I hope you made a tidy bit out of it," Said Lombard maliciously.

"Didn't make as much as should have. Mean crowd the Purcell gang. I got my promotion though..."

"And Landor got penal servitude and died in prison," Reminded Lombard.

 How was I supposed to know he was such a fragile man?" Demanded Blore, "Anyway what about you Mr. Lombard and those twenty-one Natives?"

"Self-preservation is a man's first duty in the bush," Explained Lombard, "A crisis arose when we got lost. A couple of fellows and I took the supplies and headed out. Yes, I left them to die. But they were only African natives. They don't look at death the same we us Europeans do."

Before anybody could respond, Vera suddenly quivered...

"I would like to leave...just for a moment," She requested, "I...I feel so cold."



"Would you like us to postpone this inquiry while you go fetch yourself a wrap?" Asked Wargrave sympathetically.

"Yes, please," Responded Vera.

"Very well my dear, but don't be long...."

With that, Vera got up and left the four men in the Parlor.....

[Cluedo]

Vera went upstairs along the passage to her room. As she opened the door, she sudden stopped to a halt. Her nostrils quivered...



"The sea..." She thought, "The sea....it smells like the sea!"

It was no mistake. It wasn't the regular smell of sea that was regular on the island...it was the smell of the beach.....with the tide out and the rocks covered in seaweed drying in the sun.

"Can I swim out to the island Miss Claythorne? Why can I not swim out?"

Horrible whiny little brat! If it weren't for him, Hugo would be rich and would have been able to marry the girl he loved...

Hugo...

Surely Hugo was beside her? No...waiting for her in the room....

In the dark, she was suddenly afraid...and there was someone in the room...

She took a step forward, and then she felt it. A cold, clammy hand coming down and suffocating her...

Vera screamed....she screamed of utmost terror!

Downstairs, there was a crash and a commotion as the men scrambled and fumbled in their pursuit to rescue Vera...




"Quickly now! She's upstairs!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Suddenly admist all the running came the ringing of a gunshot...

BANG!



A minute later, Blore and Lombard flung into Vera's room towering over her twitching body....covered in seaweed.



"My God what is that!?" Exclaimed Blore.

Lombard took a whiff of the air.

"Smells like the sea in here!"

Then Dr. Armstrong entered the room and looked down at Vera's crumpled figure. Then he looked up.....there was a little bit seaweed hanging from a hook on the ceiling.

Acting fast, he bent down and patted Vera's cheek to revive her. Her eyelids fluttered and snapped open. She found herself lying in strands of slimed up ribbons.

Then she began to laugh hysterically.

"It..It was only seaweed! Ha ha! That's what the smell was!"

Everybody relaxed for a moment.

"Well here's one murder that didn't go according to plan!" Chuckled Philip Lombard.

"You think that's what it was meant for?" Asked Vera.

"Precisely!" Agreed Blore, enthusiastically, "The killer expected you to pass out from fright! Some people would have, wouldn't you say Doctor?"

"Hmmm, impossible to say really," Replied Armstrong, "Young healthy woman, unlikely chance of cardiac arrest..."

Suddenly with her wits revived, Vera made a diversion,

"Where's the Judge?" She asked.

The three men looked at each other.

"That's odd!" Declared Blore, "I thought he came up with us!"

"I thought he was following me," Said Dr. Armstrong, "Of course, being an old man, he would have gone slower..."

"It's damned odd..." Muttered Lombard.

"Well we got to go look for him!" Insisted Blore, "In fact, I could have sworn I heard a gun go off!....."

[Cluedo]

The four of them walked along the upper hallway in pursuit of the missing Judge Wargrave. Each one of them calling out "Wargrave? Oh Wargrave? Where are you?" Suddenly Philip Lombard stopped dead as something caught his eye.....his revolver!

He bent down to pick it up.



"Looks like Mr. Owen has been kind enough to leave it for me..." Lombard muttered under his breath.

"This is the door to the Judge's bedroom," Informed Dr. Armstrong.

"Perhaps he's in there then...waiting for us!" Hissed Blore in a loud whisper.

Lombard knocked on the door.

"Judge? Are you in there? Were coming in..."

After a count of three, Lombard flung the door open and everybody rushed in...

Judge Wargrave was sitting in the room on a chair at the foot of the bed. What the shocked the onlookers was a scarlet cape draped over his back as well as a full white judge's wig on top of his head.

Dr. Armstrong motioned the others to stand back as he examined the slumping figure of the Judge...



He bent over and pulled back the wig a little. Clear in crimson was a small mark on his forehead which trickled a little.

Then he turned to the others and gave the verdict.

"He has been shot through the head."



"God...the revolver!" Cried Blore.

Lombard opened the gun up and checked the barrel.

"One shot fired," He reported.  

Vera suddenly put her hand up to her mouth in shock as she stared at the white wig on his head...

"Miss Brent's missing white yarn!" She cried.

"And the scarlet towel missing from the bathroom!" Added Blore.

Suddenly Philip Lombard laughed. It was a high, unnatural laugh.

"Five little Indian boys going in for law; One got in Chancery and then there were four!" Recited Lombard, "That's the end of Mr. Bloody Justice Wargrave! No more pronouncing sentence for him! No more putting on the black cap! Here's the last time he'll ever sit in court! No more summing up and sentencing innocent men to their death. How Edward Seton would laugh if he were here! How he would laugh..."

"But last night, you said he was the killer!" Reminded Vera.

Lombard turned more somber,
"I know I did...Well I was wrong. One more of us acquitted...too late!"